Vacant Crowd
by Lucky4Track
Summary: AU, SLASH, C/D, Castiel didn't expect much from his life, living on the streets until one day an eccentric man -Gabriel- offers him a paying job in a no-where town. What Castiel hadn't anticipated was just how 'no where' the town really was.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Supernatural, its characters or any brand name, copyrighted product I may mention.

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**(Prologue)**

Castiel watched as the lights blurred by, a blank expression in place. Tomorrow would be his first day on the job when only yesterday he was celebrating his second year of unemployment. 'Celebrating' meaning nursing a bottle of vodka that had taken the better part of the month to save for but who was to judge him within the confines of his mind? What had begun as a simply taxi ride across town ended with him holding a booklet containing a check for five thousand dollars, a phone number and a bus ticket to a city he hadn't even known existed.

It was all happening too quickly and he very much should have been wary of such a sudden arrangement but he reasoned that things could only get better considering the point in which he was with his life. Besides, the offer was pretty straightforward; make sure his client was kept safe at all times, at any cost. Or 'be his bitch on a leash' as the taxi driver had so eloquently put it.

The noise of an ambulance screeching past the bus jolted Castiel out of his musings and he noticed that he was the only passenger left on the vehicle. Brows furrowed, he wondered when that had happened, but before he could dwell on it any longer, the bus made its last exit at the highway and neighborhoods once again became visible.

"We're here!" The driver announced animatedly. Castiel rose and strode over to the exit, one foot was already on the pavement when he paused suddenly to turned to face the driver.

"Have we met?" The person sitting at the driver's seat was a short, blonde man with longish hair and small hazel eyes. The man gave Castiel a wide smirk and laughed.

"Good eye! You just passed your final test for the job." Confusion riddled Castiel's mind as he realized that this was not the driver he had begun his trip with; in fact, this bus driver was the same man that had been in the taxi, the very same which had offered him the employment in the first place.

"You're-"

"Gabriel, in the flesh and kicking," He introduced himself as he moved to shake Castiel's hand. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions but I'd prefer it if you consulted my card." Gabriel handed him the said item and it read: 'Gabriel Johnson, taxi/bus driver, actor and chief of police, at your service, but charge extra for prostitution. Thank you.'

Castiel sagged, mouth hanging open. "This is some kind of joke, right?" He could feel annoyance and the humiliation of having been had manifest itself in the form of acid reflux.

"Well… yeah, I can't really sell my body or else I'd have to arrest myself. But everything else is legit." Gabriel flashed him another smirk as he walked past him to the luggage compartment on the side of the bus to retrieve Castiel's personal belongings.

"Here you go; your place is that yellow building, the door on the left. I added a few extra things you're going to need so you're basically good to go tomorrow morning." The strangeness of the situation had for effect a momentary lapse in memory, or, at least a lapse in how they were being formed. What Gabriel had just said flew right past Castiel as his conscious mind latched onto previous sentences.

"What do you mean I 'passed the final test'." His expression must have been the perfect imitation of a feral cat being fed canned food for the first time: utterly confused and displeased, because the driver's amusement grew ten fold.

"Like I said, all you really need to know for now is on your card. The wife is probably thinking I ran away again- phone's been vibrating the entire ride here." As an afterthought, Gabriel fished into his pocket and held down the 'off switch'. "Okay, now skedaddle, Winchester is going to suck up your energy faster then you can book a hooker in Vegas." Securing Castiel's duffle bag over his shoulder, Gabriel pushed him down the driveway, up the stairs and past the front door.

By the time Castiel's brain had caught up with 'I'd have to arrest myself', the bus had long driven away.

'_What did I just get myself into?_'

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**(End Prologue)**

**A/N**: My, my, what indeed.

The reason this is so short is because it's the prologue :) I already have the first chapter in the works, and it'll be at least 2500-3000 words long, depending on how it develops. In it, we meet Dean and get more of an idea of what'll come up later. I have a plot... a loose one but a plot none the less. If you're looking for something spectacular, maybe this isn't the story for you but I'll give it my best damn shot.


	2. Dean

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the characters or show nor am making any profit from this story! It's all in good fun.

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**(Chapter One)**

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The home itself was rather sparse; there were no photographs and only the bare minimum in furniture and cutlery. It was a two-bedroom house with a fused kitchen and living room and single bathroom. The first bedroom had a single bed, TV-drawer and simple nightstand with a lamp. The other room was more of an office then sleeping quarter, Castiel didn't really look over it when it occurred to him that there was a _bathroom_ here, a bathroom with hot running water. He couldn't even remember the last time he hadn't washed himself with a petty cloth at some back alley diner's restroom.

Not even bothering to gather his clothes, Castiel stripped down and hoped into the shower. The water felt like heaven. He decided then and there that he would keep whatever job he just got indefinitely. Anything was worth running water. Squirting a generous amount of shampoo into his palm, Castiel washed the dirt and musty scent of alleyways away from his strands. It wasn't as though he had been filthy but what little pride the man clung onto made sure that he was at least presentable enough to enter fast food joints without being stared at. Depending on the time of year, however, Castiel even managed to make enough money begging on the street to clean his clothes at a public washer. But it was rather hit and miss unless Christmas rolled by. Even taxi fair was a rare treat Castiel only allowed himself when he felt like he needed a change of pace.

He must have spent at least an hour behind the shower curtain. Relishing in the sensation of being clean and warm. When the hot water began cooling noticeably, he took it as a cue to step out. It hadn't been too hard to find towels; '_Clean towels_.' he added fondly in his mind, so Castiel took the time to enjoy another luxury he hadn't had in a while: the privacy to walk around half naked. Glancing at the clock, he found that it was only seven in the evening, so he put off looking into the 'new additions' to his luggage in favor of watching TV, not even caring about what was on, he settling for whatever channel it had been turned off to.

Professional billiards had never been so fascinating.

Castiel was so engrossed in it that he didn't hear the door unlock, or someone begin to shuffle around the house.

"**Woah**- okay-!" Castiel nearly jumped out of his skin as a tall brunette entered then recoiled from the room, hand risen as though to shield his eyes from something terrible. "Who the hell are you?" The man asked, still not looking directly at him.

"I should ask you the same thing." It took everything in him not to yank the covers over him, but it wasn't as though he was actually naked, and he technically wasn't trespassing either.

"Gabriel told me I'd be staying here." At the mention of the name, the intruder's expression twisted into surprise and irritation as he lowered his arm. "Jesus, **already**? I got the other guy to quit just last week! You'd think after six bodyguards resigning, he'd get the hint that I don't want one."

"Mr. Winchester I presume?" The man, who had been busy glaring at the television, suddenly directed his full attention to Castiel. "Alright, rule number one, do **not** call me that. Ever. Rule number two-" Mr. Winchester's cell phone began ringing.

"What? … YOU, you **dick**! How many bozos do I have to get fired for you to understand that I don't need protection?" The man yelled as Castiel sat there awkwardly, afraid to so much as blink. "What am I doing here- what is HE doing here?" He paused for a moment, undoubtedly listening to the person on the other line. The man seemed torn between pacing around the room and standing still, his gaze flicking towards Castiel a few times before he finally handed him the phone.

"Yes?"

"_Cas' my man, way to keep that professional stance! Listen, since he's already there, I'm afraid that you're now on the clock. I'm really sorry, who knows, maybe he'll get drunk and you can have the morning off while he's doing his best impersonation of a hibernating bear, I'll have things covered for the morning. Just one thing though: try to make sure that he doesn't leave the house tonight; things are stirring and it wouldn't be an ideal first day for you. Do whatever you can, there's a case of Brandi in the fridge and some porn under your bed."_ As Gabriel continued to make less and less sense, Castiel began to loose his voice and opted to incline his head in a numb nod. The lack of reception on his part didn't at all slow the man down, though.

"_Anyhow I have to go, the wife is giving me 'those eyes'._" His boss chuckled as a very angry, very male voice faintly growled something that sounded a little like: "_I may be your bitch in the office but my standards are much higher when it comes to my bed._" And just like that, Gabriel hung up. After taking a moment to let it all sink in, Castiel heaved a sign and quickly slipped into a business state of mind before grabbing clothes from his bag and changing in the bathroom. When he got out, the Winchester had thankfully stayed and was sitting on the couch, sourly sipping a drink as he channel surfed.

It was the single most awkward moment of his life and rather then become alarmed when the doorbell rang, Castiel pounced on the chance to do something other then stand there and silently watch the stranger brood.

As he peered into the peephole, Castiel was greeted with the sight of yet another irritated looking person. A petite redhead with far too much make-up on was huffing and trying to jiggle the incompliant doorknob open. Castiel unlocked it but only left a big enough gap for him to properly see the woman.

"Can I help you?" He asked in his best diplomatic tone.

"Where's Dean? And who are you?" The redhead tried to push past him but to no avail. "I'm sorry but I think you have the wrong address, there isn't any Dean here." Castiel replied politely, the redhead merely scoffed.

"'The hell there isn't, I know because I've been here. Let me in!" She started to get more agitated but it didn't even begin to faze Castiel; this was the sort of thing bodyguards did, right?

"I don't think that that's a good idea. If you'll excuse me, I had a long day." With that, he simply shut the door and locked it. Much to the woman's distain, as she continued to bang on the door and shout. If she broke anything, it'd give Castiel a good excuse to call the police but for now, he could ignore her without too much trouble.

When he returned to the living room, the man casually downed the last of his drink then craned his neck to face him. "Alright fine, if you can get rid of her that easily then I guess you're not as useless as you look. Don't think that means you should start getting comfortable with your new gig though." The stranger pushed himself off the couch to retrieve another Brandi, seeming to hesitate a moment with the bottle hovering over his glass, until he finally chose to bring the entire six ounce drink with him when the noise outside the door got louder; "Dean? **DEAN**, OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR YOU TWO TIMING ASSHOLE! DEEAAAN!"

"Well, now you know my name." The man pinched the bridge of his nose and shrugged in defeat.

A few minutes of silence passed before Dean spoke again, this time in a slurred tone. "If you're going to just stand there all night, grab yourself a drink and sit. You're starting to creep me out." He announced, vaguely gesturing the chair adjacent to where he was sitting.

"Sorry." Castiel complied, grateful to at last have something to distract himself with. Although he didn't take the entire bottle, he did pour himself half a glass. He was after all, on the clock. More silence followed as the mystery woman outside seemed to have finally given up.

"You're a chatty fella, aren't ya?" Dean asked sarcastically, by now most of the bite from his comment was dampened by the alcohol.

"I'm not sure what to say." The reply looked to annoy the brunette, who sighed heavily and changed the channel.

"Fine, I'll humor you; did Gabriel even tell you what you're in for?" Dean asked.

"No." Another sigh.

"So where **did** he get you from?"

Castiel paused. "… the street." The admission earned him a double take and for a moment, Dean appeared to sober up. "At least that means he's getting desperate… I guess." He tried to sit up but got hit by a spout of dizziness and fell right back into the sofa.

"Then you're in for hell, uh…",

"Castiel."

"… seriously? Jesus, you're like the eighth guy I've meet with a biblical name."

"My parents weren't exactly the sanest people." Castiel admitted, only slightly bothered that he was sharing such a personal aspect of his life. Living on the streets always had a way of bringing out either philosophical or deeply personal issues in conversations and he found that it was a habit that over the short few years had integrated itself into his personality. That, and of course, his client was beginning to get drunk. From the looks of it, Dean was a talkative drunk too.

The other scoffed. "If you want to play 'who's got the most messed up family', trust me when I say I'll beat you with both hands tied behind my back, blindfolded." Now curious, Castiel leaned forward in his chair. "Try me."

"Mom got murdered by some psycho and it drove pops insane to the point that he made a deal with some shady guy at, get this," Dean's tone was now dripping with a self mocking contempt. "At the price of his soul. It **did** something to him and before long; he was making other deals… bad deals. See, this whole damn city is under his control. Gabe's position as chief is just something to give a sense of normalcy to this shithole. I mean, he's trying to stop him, yeah, but fuck if he's gotten anywhere lately."

Castiel's brows knitted together in mild confusion. "So what exactly is going on here?"

Dean countered the question with another one; "What was the first thing Gabriel asked you when you said you were interested in the job?"

"… what my address was."

"Yeah, your registered address, right?" A nod. "Right. Wanna know which city my registered address is?" Another nod. "Vancouver, Canada. Gabriel's is in Washington and of course, Crowley's a visitor from some place in England while Bobby's from Wyoming. Gabriel, Bobby and me were all born here." Dean paused a moment, as if the revelation should have explained everything. What he was met with, however, was Castiel's best impersonation of a puzzled statue.

"I'm not follwoing." Dean frowned the kind of frown that one wore when they got hit by a particularly strong headache.

"Look in your stuff, I'd do it but the room's kind of spinning." Nodding, Castiel made his way to the bedroom. As he opened his duffel bag and peered at the very bottom, he had to take a moment to stop and gawk. There was a brand new laptop, a gun wrapped in one of his shirts, a silencer well hidden within socks, a permit for the gun, with his forged signature, ammo, pockets of salt and a bulky cell phone. He must have been staring for a long time because a stiff thud from behind startled hm.

"Ow…" Dean pushed himself off the carpet, wiping off a drizzle of saliva before rubbing at the faint red mark that formed on the side of his face.

"How many bottles did you have?" Castiel moved to help when Dean when the brunette swayed again and replied with a dismissive wave at the question. Grabbing the laptop, Dean opened it to the web browser.

"Do you know what this town's called?"

"Don't you know? You do live-"

"I **know** where I live, Christ. Just humor me." Dean rolled his eyes, immediately regretting the action and closing his eyes.

"Humstenville."

"Have you heard of it before?"

"No." Dean gave him a half grin before typing the name on Google Maps. '_Did you mean: Hustonville, Lincoln, KY, US_?' read the page. To further prove his point, Dean fished in his pocket and gave Castiel his driver's license.

"Check it." And indeed, it read 'Humstenville, Minnesota'.

"Whole damn place is cursed. If you're a registered citizen here, John Wincehster, my father, owns you and your soul. If you move, you'll be fine- unless of course he and his goons have their eyes set on ya. Once you leave, you forget everything tied to the place. People disappear from here daily, sometimes dozens a day. But no one remembers them, a mother can drive her kid to school one morning and by suppertime, think that somebody broke into their place and stole their stuff and replaced it with kid's things. They'll look at pictures of their own **kid!**- and see nothing, woosh, gone from their mind. It's some freaky loophole and we've been trying to stop it for years now…"

"Okay."

"**'****Okay'**? That's it? No 'you're crazy' or 'fuck this I'm leaving'?" And it dawned on Castiel that maybe Dean had been trying to intimidate and scare him off. But the gist of his reaction was a small smile.

"You haven't heard my story yet."

"Well, spill. I'd love to hear what hell you could've gone through not to be dented by that."

"Before I was born, my parents were perfectly normal. But when I was just about due, my father began hearing voices. Something about an angel needing him for a higher cause. At first he tried to ignore it, but the episodes began happening more frequently and each time he lost a little bit of his sanity. After I was born, he completely lost it, he was convinced that my mother was a demon, insisting on naming me Castiel to protect me he then tried to kill her. Fortunately, he failed but when the authorities arrived, he turned the gun to himself. My mother did her best to keep it from me, speaking the world of my father, but when I turned sixteen, I found out and ran away. I began to look for answers and found out that my father's case was not unique. Although most didn't become insane as he had. I met a woman who claimed to be an angel's 'vessel', she told me that not every human could withstand such a powerful being contacting them and it wasn't out of the ordinary for a few to go mad. By the time I got the courage to return home, I heard that my mother had been in accident and died at the scene. Neither she nor my father had any family so I was left on my own. With the inheritance, I managed to pay for school and get my diploma but it ran out before I could salvage enough for collage. I held down several jobs but after a while I let myself go." When Castiel finished, he chanced a glance at Dean and was miffed to find that he'd closed his eyes.

"Hmm? Oh… sorry to hear that." He sounded sincere enough but Castiel still frowned. "That's heavy."

Silence lingered for a long while until Dean continued: "So what's the most interesting job a homeless guy can have?"

"I've been a bouncer."

At that Dean laughed, and patted him on the shoulder. "Jeez, aren't you full of surprises?" He rose to his feet shakily, only making it a few steps before he all but collapsed onto the bed. His breathing got heavy but just as Castiel was about to leave the room, he heard: "Thanks for not asking about the girl."

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**(End Chapter One)**

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There we go! As promised and without too long a wait :)

Sorry, my Internet died and I had to go and STEAL some for you guys, thanks to everyone who review by the way, I love you! Next chapter should also take a few days and we're going to get a glimpse of John and oh ho ho ho Sam. He won't play as big a role like John any time soon but we CAN'T have a Supernatural story without our beloved caveman.

I'm off, sorry about the delay!


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